


Tales from a Tired™ Crownsguard

by Arinalle Fanirei (ShakyHades)



Series: Deviants 'verse [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, I'm not comfortable with writing porn but am doing a porny universe SUE ME, M/M, Mild Public Kink, Most of story in outsider's pov, Noctis is a little shit, Nothing Bad Happens™, POV Alternating, Second-Hand Embarrassment, i guess, italics overdose!!!, off-screen sex, who is quite honestly suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 13:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12133506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShakyHades/pseuds/Arinalle%20Fanirei
Summary: In a world with no magic, no destiny, and no wars…Insomnia tries to deal His Royal Highness, Noctis Lucis Caelum, and his fiance’s... sexual deviance.





	Tales from a Tired™ Crownsguard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmbitiousSkychild](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmbitiousSkychild/gifts).



> So, hello! This is the intro fic of an entire 'verse where nothing bad happens ever, I have no idea when the next one will come, could be months. This was all quite frankly inspired by Beyonce's Partition and a talk at two fucking am with a friend, have fun!
> 
> eta: now betaed!!

Prompto watches Insomnia through the window of the car -- limousine, really, -- eyes drawn to the streetlights and neon signs all around. It’s almost 8pm on a Friday, and nightlife is barely starting in the Crown City; clubs and bars opening and people pouring out on the streets.

Prompto and Noctis are going to one such club; a newly finished one, owned by some noble or another. It’s guaranteed to be somewhat fancier than the _‘common’_ ones, which means a little more respect to the Prince’s privacy, and that, coupled with the fact that they are in _dire_ need of a break, is the reason they accepted the invitation to the little opening ceremony.

Noctis had been busy with _princely affairs_ the entire week, and they had barely had time to meet up, much less be alone. Prompto looked at his fiance then, and watched for a bit as the other tapped away at his phone, a light frown on his face, and Prompto can’t stop the soft smile from taking over his face.

Noctis notices him looking and makes eye contact, returning the smile and leaning closer to give Prompto a little kiss before going back to whatever he’s doing. Prompto’s smile widens, and he goes back to watching the city pass by.

If he remembers the address correctly, they’re nearly halfway there -- fifteen minutes away, tops. It’d be much farther away if their starting point had been the Argentum’s rundown little house, but Noctis’ apartment is on the fanciest district of Insomnia; he _is_ the Crown Prince after all.

Prompto is so caught up in his thoughts and the city around them that he almost jumps when Noctis suddenly touches him, and he turns his head to find the Prince is _much_ closer to him than he was previously. Close enough for Prompto to feel Noctis’ breath on his own face.

“ _Prom,_ ” Noctis says, and oh no, Prompto knows that tone, and they are _not doing this._

“Noct, don’t--” he starts, but it’s too late; Noctis has already started kissing his neck, going directly for that spot that makes Prompto’s knees go weak, and Prom lets out a surprised gasp that nearly sounds like a moan.

“Noctis, _yes_ ,” the little shit Prompto calls his fiance says, far too pleased with himself. Noctis’ hand falls on his thigh, and start sneaking up, _up_ \-- Six help him.

“Noctis, _don’t_ \-- we’re nearly there,” Prompto protests, and Noctis kisses him, but Prompto pulls away. “It took me so long to get my hair right, I don’t want it to go to wast--” Noctis kisses him again, and Prompto pulls away _again,_ “Noooct, c’mon buddy don’t do this to m-- ah, Noct…”

He can feel Noctis smirk, since the face is still buried on his neck, and curses the enormous weak spot he has for the man beside him. Already, he can feel his resolve crumbling before him, but he tries hard to remain steadfast even as Noctis teases more and more sounds out of him.

“It’s been so _long,_ Prom, please,” Noctis whines, one hand coming up to rest on his nape, fingers burying themselves on the soft hair there just the way that Prompto likes, and his eyes nearly roll to the back of his head due to all the attention.

“Noct,” he breathes, hands starting to shake from the effort of holding them in place instead of having them on Noctis, pulling the other’s hair just like _Noctis_ likes, Noctis who isn’t afraid to admit he’s got a bit of a hair pulling kink. “We’re inside of a moving car,” he tries to hiss, but it comes out as a breathless moan instead.

“Don’t care,” Noctis answers, nonchalant, going in for a kiss, and another, and another-- and when the hand on his thigh goes up again, Prompto can’t stop the gasp and Noctis _(the little shit)_ uses that opportunity to sneak his tongue inside Prompto’s mouth.

 _Fuck_ , Prompto thinks, _I’m screwed._

His body arches beneath Noctis’ hands, and Prompto feels him smirk against his lips, so he bites Noctis’ lower lip in retaliation. It doesn’t help Prompto any; in fact, it tilts the balance a little more against him, as Noctis’ kisses get hungrier, the hand on Prompto’s thigh going to his waist to pull him closer.

Curse that damn exhibitionist kink his fiance has. Curse those hands and lips that know just where to go to make him melt, curse his beautiful face--

Prompto moans.

Noctis pulls away, just to let Prompto see the smug look his face currently has, and his only response is a petulant pout. Noctis laughs a little, breathy and nearly soundless, pulling Prompto until he’s sitting on his own lap, lips sweet once more, soothing and trying-- fuck, who is he kidding? -- _succeeding_ in convincing him that is is okay, this is good, relax--

And it is. Gods help him, it _is_.

Prompto finally allows his hands to move and bury themselves in that beautiful midnight hair, making Noctis sigh against his skin and tighten his arms around Prompto’s waist, bringing him closer until no space remains between them.

It can only go downhill from there, really, and Prompto knows that. Unfortunately ( _or is it?_ ) reason has already been thrown out of the window, so there’s nothing stopping Prompto from rolling his hips and relishing on how Noctis bites his neck in surprise.

 

x

 

 _What the actual fuck,_ Hadrius Pervigilo thought. _Are they--_

He regrets accepting to play chauffeur for the Prince like he regrets few things in life. Hadrius was _so_ not paid enough for this. He’s proud to be a Crownsguard, and will take orders somewhat happily, but this— this is too much.

He absolutely _does not_ need to know how the _future six-damned consort_ sounds like when receiving… ahem, _attention_ from his future **_King_**. That’s something he does not need to know, ever, in any situation.

And yet, here he is. Trying hard ( _which is something he’s_ **_becoming_ ** _, even though he would rather_ **_not_** ) to ignore the little sounds and sighs and moans coming out of the back of the limo. The fact itself that they _are_ in a limo, makes that task almost impossibly difficult -- nevermind that it’s a _royal_ one, and thus even more protected -- it’s supposed to grant privacy from the outside world.

So every sound inside it? Is magnified.

Fuck his life, seriously.

Hadrius rolls up the partition, and it helps. Less sounds pass through, but those that do are obviously the _louder_ ones, which means things are escalating, and that thought is-- unhelpful. To say the least.

He decides to drive around aimlessly. Those two are obviously not in a good enough shape to go to a club anymore, but, who knows; maybe they’ll see sense, remember him, have mercy on his poor soul and stop things.

...Not likely.

It’s not as if he isn’t aware of their reputation -- everyone in Insomnia _knows._ It’s been a headline too many times for people to care about counting, because it’s common knowledge that it’s a _lot._

The Crown Prince of Lucis is an insatiable sexual deviant; the papers and tv shows and radio stations say. Hadrius would comfortably bet that at least one of those media freaks has a freaking _list_ of where the Prince and his fiance have been _caught in the act_ , so to speak.

Hadrius snaps out of his reverie when he hears cloth ripping, followed by a whine of the Prince’s nickname -- and really, really wishes he hadn’t.

_Gods, they’re getting-- no. I’m not thinking about that. Nope._

He wants to die, honestly. But, thing is: if he dies, no one will be at the wheel and they’ll crash, and he doesn’t want to be responsible for the death of the fucking _Crown Prince._

However, if they continue -- which they probably will -- he might just crash anyway. Would that annul his fault in a possible accident? The Prince and his fiance distracting him enough that Hadrius crashes?

The answer is, most likely, no. They’d probably just say he had to had better composure or control or something and his Crownsguard record would still be fucked up.

After a particularly loud exclamation of the Prince’s name, Hadrius decides to put on some music; for his sanity, if nothing else.

That seems to encourage them, somehow. _Fuck_ his life, honestly. Now that there’s music they probably think they can be loude-- _no_ , not going that way, back away from it, nope.

So, every time he can hear something from the other side of the limo, he turns up the volume a notch, until he can feel the beat of whatever song is playing -- he doesn’t even know, really -- vibrating through the car. Hadrius figures it’s probably audible from the outside.

He looks at his current position in the fancy GPS the vehicle has and starts deciding which streets to take back to the Prince’s apartment. Six damn it, he just wants to be home, he’s tired and his pants are still kinda tight due to absolutely _traitorous_ images his imagination is conjuring.

Never again, He is never, _ever,_ playing chauffeur for those two again. If this is how they are usually, how does Scientia pull it off? Hadrius will never know.

He ignores every thought that’s not about driving and pretends that his mind is blank ( _it’s not, it’s_ **_so_ ** _not_ ) as he drives back to their starting point.

Hadrius arrives and parks the limo without issues -- the fact that the parking lot even _has_ a place designed to fit a limousine is ridiculous on its own right, in his opinion. Nothing less would be expected of the building the Prince lives in, he guesses.

He debates internally for a moment if he was even _permitted_ to exit the vehicle, but he needs out bad enough that he decides not to care. So he leaves it running, music still blasting, and steps out.

The beat echoes on the vast parking lot, empty of people other than him and the two in the limo, and Hadrius calls on every lesson on keeping a poker-face as he stands on parade rest a little ways from the vehicle.

All he wants is to _go,_ go _home_ and _away_ from them, but he’s still Crownsguard, and for all the security the edifice has, he can’t let himself leave. On the occasion _anything_ bad happens, he would rather be there, even as uncomfortable as he is at the moment.

He has to be on the lookout, because _those_ two? Are clearly not in any f-- _no don’t think about that, don’t think that they are definitely fu-- NO DON’T GO THERE, PLEASE DON’T--_

Hadrius considers shooting himself, or bashing his head against a nearby wall enough to leave him unconscious, admits he can’t do that...

And then continues to suffer in silence.

If feels like an eternity. It probably is some fifteen to twenty minutes.

When he sees the door move-- _open,_  Hadrius tenses and schools his face into blankness again, staring straight ahead.

He definitely doesn’t notice how Argentum’s shirt is ripped. And absolutely does not notice that some buttons are missing from the Prince’s dress shirt, either. Nope. Not at all.

He _absolutely does not notice, for_ **_his own sanity_** , how the Prince’s fiance still has drying _liquids_ around his mouth and oh six, oh gods, he did not need those mental images, _imagination please STOP--_

Hadrius is near the elevator, which in hindsight was a terrible, horrible decision, should have totally picked somewhere else, cause now they’re coming _closer,_ Ramuh please strike him where he stands; he does not need this.

The Prince gives him a slight nod, looking smug, and Hadrius returns it only out of obligation, wanting to cry and die at the same time. _Why._

They disappear inside the elevator, and Hadrius holds parade rest for a little longer, and then he crumples and nearly sobs.

He looks at the limo, knowing he’ll have to get inside it again to drive it back to the Citadel, and holds back the scream.

The things he does for duty.

 

x

 

Inside the elevator, Noctis sighs, absolutely pleased with himself, and brings Prompto closer, nuzzling on his hair and pressing a kiss near his temple. He feels Prompto sigh, and knows his _fiance_ \-- Six, he doesn’t get tired from calling him such, wonders what will happen when they’re finally _married_ \-- is pouting.

He can only smile, because he isn’t sorry. At all. Prompto had told him not to direct any gesture to the poor Crownsguard, but it was stronger than him. Now Prompto is annoyed.

 _Well,_ Noctis thinks. _I’ll just have to make it up to him, won’t I?_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @thefiresofmustafar on tumblr COME SCREAM ABOUT PROMPTIS WITH ME


End file.
